Unforgivable
by nerwende90
Summary: John does something he never thought he'd do. Warning: mild child abuse, hurt!Dean, guilty!John. ONESHOT Rating just to be safe.


I don't even know where it came from.

One second my eight year old boy was standing in front of me telling me how he didn't like it when I drink, next thing I know the back of my hand connects with his jaw.

I look down at my own hand, turning it over to get a better look. I almost expect a bruise, a red tinge, a mark, any evidence of what I just did. But there's nothing there, it doesn't even sting. Then I look at him. The force of the blow has sent him on the floor and his eyes are wide with surprise. Then suddenly they fill with tears he's doing his best to hold back.

And it strikes me.

I just hit my son.

After all these years of anger towards people who hit their children, I finally broke the thread that made me better than them. After Mary's death I'd vowed I'd protect my children if it was the last thing I did. Mary… what would she say?

I'm a monster.

He's still looking at me and I want to wrap my arms around him, comfort him, tell him I'm sorry. I even want him to insult me, hit me back. But neither of us moves. We just stare at each other, both stunned and desperate. I hate the way he stays on the floor, like he's too hurt to get up. Maybe he is.

The walls are closing in on me as my throat is getting tight. "Go to your room" is all I can choke out. In a second he's on his feet and hurrying down the hall like he's scared of me. I want him to slam the door shut, but his brother's sleeping and he wouldn't wake him up for the world. He's a good big brother after all.

I'm a bad father.

As soon as he's out of sight I sink to the floor and let my tears go free. What the hell was I thinking? He was just worried about me. It's not fair, but it's what he does. I had no right or excuse to do such a thing. I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for this. I know _he _will. He does that too. No matter what I or Sam do, he always forgives. He always finds us excuses for our behavior.

Soon I'm sobbing, head in hands. I hate myself for what I did to him. Not only because of the hit, but also because of the way I've raised him. At only eight years old he's already all grown up on the inside. What kind of life have I given him? At six he was firing a shotgun, at seven he was taking over the father role. Where is the little boy that cried whenever there was a thunderstorm and asked for a bedtime story?

That boy died with Mary.

It takes me forever, but eventually I stop crying. With a great deal of efforts I get on my feet and slowly make my way to the boys' room. It's only when I lay my palm against the hard wood of their door that I realize how bad my hands are shaking.

Slowly, tentatively, I push the door open. The room is dark, but I don't need to see Dean to know he's not sleeping. I took a couple of soft, silent steps in and then I hear it. A quiet sniffle. He's crying.

If my heart wasn't broken before, it sure is now. I just stand there, wanting so bad to go to him and apologize but I just can't. I can't bring myself to take the few steps that separate me from him. I feel like I'm not allowed to after what I've done. Besides, what should I tell him? "Dean, I'm sorry"? "It won't happen again"? "I didn't mean to hurt you"? "I love you"? He knows all that. And as much as I regret it, I'm not very good with feelings.

So I just leave as quietly as I came in. When I pass by the sofa, I see something I didn't notice before. My duffle bag. All packed up for tomorrow's hunt. My jacket is on the armrest, my keys on the table. No need to wonder who did this. Dean's handprints are everywhere.

Tomorrow I'll get up early to go get his favorite breakfast and I'll thank him for getting my stuff ready. I know it will make him happy, even for just a little while.

**The End**

* * *

_This fanfic was inspired by the beautiful song by Lynda Lemay "J'ai battu ma fille" ("I hit my daughter") in which a mother describes her feelings after hitting her daughter in blind rage. I thought it was very fitting for John and Dean, so I decided to give it a try._

_Thanks for reading, I'd love to know what you think._

nerwende


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